Look Zombie, I get it. You’re exhausted. You’ve been wandering around all day with your leisurely trailing leg and your unquenchable thirst for flesh all while fighting for space within your bickering brethren only to discover there’s nothing planned for dinner. I feel for you. But you wanna’ know who’s exhausted? I am. I’ve been awake since seven o’clock this morning answering questions about why the sky is blue and listening to verrrry long stories that involve lego people, princesses, castles and something about crafting mines. I lost track of the details in-between pulling my hair into a ponytail and pulling on previously-used-and-notyetwashedsocks. I’m not even sure they’re mine! That was followed up with something resembling breakfast and the unceremonious shepherding of children into the classroom, a.k.a. our dining room, where I attempted to homeschool my own brethren with my minimal knowledge of…everything. Three hours later, they were settled in front of a couple of possibly – but who are we kidding? – not high-quality kids shows while I made a beeline to the parents’ house because they need attention too. Yes, Dad was watching The Price is Right in his underwear and Mom spent an entire twenty minutes telling me all about the compression socks she ordered via catalog, but I am their village and I’ll be damned if I will leave them to wither away all by their lonesomes.
Fleeing, I mean leaving their house, I drove across town, donned my mask and ran into UPS to drop off a couple of impulse purchase returns. I then went into the grocery store spending way more time than necessary because every time I turned down an aisle I discovered I was not adhering to the posted directional arrows so in good conscience I reversed, returning from whence I came only to veer down the next aisle and around and into the one I originally wanted to be in. Are you following all of this?
That task finally completed after two-and-a-half hours of shopping and five hours after leaving the children (while Dad was hunkered down somewhere in his home “office”) and while feeling guilty because I had no intention of spraying down the newly acquired groceries, I was greeted with hungry kids wondering WHAT’S FOR DINNER, MOM?! Dinner? Shazoola. I. forgot. about. dinner. Looking at my wrist where I once wore a watch – when I was young and professional and showered – I slowly did the math realizing that by the time I did do something about dinner, got the kids bathed and their forts moved off of their beds so they could sleep in them, it would be close to ten o’clock tonight. So yeah, Zombie, you’re tired. Boo-hoo. I feel pretty confident that any minute I am going to fall asleep where I am standing and your opportunity to have your dinner will have arrived. So I suggest you put on your big boy scraggly pants and get ready to do some zombie’ing because this apocalypse, I ain’t gonna’ make it.